


A Universaly Relatable Fantasy About Crowley

by AZFell (AnnetheCatDetective)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Reader-Insert, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AZFell
Summary: Just a normal fantasy everyone has had, and it's not at all weird that I've written this.





	A Universaly Relatable Fantasy About Crowley

It starts with a romantic dinner out. Crowley is the perfect gentleman– opening doors, pulling out your chair, insisting upon paying the cheque– but underneath it all, he’s still a demon. Underneath it all, you still expect, no, hope for certain things.

 

The conversation is stimulating, the food exquisite, the wine flows, and with every question of whether you’ve read something new and interesting lately or whether he’s been someplace different with stories to tell, with every flirtatious argument on moral relativism, the gleam of his smile and the way he strokes your hand puts you further in the mood for what comes after dessert.

 

When he looks at you over the rims of his dark glasses, the look in his golden eyes makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t have to say a word to let you know he wants you just as badly as you want him.

 

“Let’s get out of here.” He hisses. The sound of it thrills you– the seductive quality of his voice, and more than that, the lack of control. You never dreamed you might be the one to tempt him, but there’s the proof.

 

Crowley walks you out to his car, your arm looped through his. He pauses, before opening the passenger side door to you, his hand cupping your cheek.

 

“You know, you look beautiful by moonlight.” He says. “Sorry, guess that was… unoriginal.”

 

“No, it was lovely.” You assure him. “Really.”

 

He smiles at you, nervous for just a moment, and then he leans down and kisses your lips for the very first time. It’s surprisingly soft. No wicked tongue, no sharp fangs. Still, when he pulls back, his smile has regained something smugly devilish.

 

When you reach after him, and he kisses you again, there’s heat. He leaves every last bit of you vibrating with excitement, aglow with love. Love… you’re in love with this demon, and tonight you hope to give yourself to him at last.

 

Inside the Bentley, you can’t quite relax– not the way Crowley drives. But the adrenaline of it only seems to fuel your desire for him. You expect him to take you back to his London flat, or maybe to your place. If he had been planning for a hotel, you’d be there by now. But instead, he keeps on going. He glances over to you now and then, perhaps sensing your excitement. One of his hands leaves the wheel, and you half wish it wouldn’t when he seems to zip so recklessly along the street, but when it lands on your knee you can’t complain.

 

His touch slides up your thigh, and you let out a whimper as he squeezes, then a moan.

 

He drives you out of the city entirely, up into the Chilterns, where he parks the Bentley. Surely he doesn’t mean…? But he turns to you and pulls you into another kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tickling your own with its forked ends.

 

“Here?” You ask, breathless. Dizzy. He looks at you as if he could just devour you… and you find you would rather like him to try.

 

“Backseat.” He says, and you nod. He scrambles to come around and get your door, and to move you both into the cramped back of the Bentley.

 

At this point he ~~oh no what have I got myself into~~ takes your clothes off. Sensually. Very sensually. His hands ~~what do hands do?~~ are on your ~~what do people find sexy?~~ chest. And then he whispers in your ear, low and sibilant, telling you every wicked thing he wants to do to you.

 

He rolls you over onto your front, ~~can you do that in the backseat of a Bentley?~~ your face pressed into the leather upholstery, the scent of it filling your nostrils. His hand slips up between your thighs now, caressing your arousal before sliding back. ~~wait where is he supposed to get lubricant? No, obviously he uses his demonic powers, he’s got those, that’s fine this is still a normal sexual fantasy~~ He kisses your shoulderblades until you’re a quivering wreck, slowly working you open for him. Torturously slow, but there’s no one around for miles to hear you keening for his infernal touch. His tongue is sweetest hellfire, hot where it caresses the spot where ~~wait NO people don’t have those~~ where it caresses the back of your shoulder. Which feels normal, nice in a normal way. And then he bites down right there as he slides into you and you’re already seeing stars.

 

Your body fits his like you were made to take ~~his~~ him. And ~~oh no oh no you really didn’t think this through what does sex feel like?~~ it’s incredible. Crowley is a generous lover. He teases, but when you simply cannot take it anymore, he allows you your pleasure, reaching around to see to it that you finish ~~first no wait it’s more romantic together~~ with him. He cries out your name and you his, as you spill into his hand and probably make a mess of the upholstery, and it’s a sign of how much he really loves you that he doesn’t mind it. He only cares about cleaning you up, and helping you back into your clothes ~~there can’t be room to do that in the backseat of the Bentley oh no of course he just uses his powers that’s fine then~~ and kissing you, tenderly, gently.

 

“I’ve never had an experience like that before.” He admits, as the two of you catch your breath, sitting to either side of the wet spot on the seat but leaning in towards each other. He caresses your hair, nuzzling at your cheek.

 

“Never? All your time on earth, have you never had sex before?”

 

“Just waiting for the right time, I guess.”

 

You kiss him.


End file.
